Lovely, Lovely Eyes
by TheGirlWhoLivedAndWrote
Summary: Francis and Mary have had no success so far in obtaining a marriage. Yet, that doesn't mean they can't start a relationship.
1. Can I Ask You a Question?

Christmas 1557

It had been several months since Mary had arrived at the French Court. The constant threats to her person had subsided, but despite this, her efforts to secure an alliance with France via a marriage with her intended, Francis, seemed to be in vain. Mary suspected something was amiss, but she could neither prove nor deny anything.

Mary sighed as Lola brushed her hair, her mind elsewhere. Christmas festivities were beginning shortly, and Mary didn't feel like celebrating. _I'm glad we are friends now; I think we have something to build on._ Francis' voice rang in Mary's ear, a smile reaching her lips. There was no denying the attraction between them, but because of the King and Queen Catherine, their relationship had little progressed since that day Francis vowed to be by her side, against foes seen and unseen. Mary sighed again, as she thought of the prince, her future intended. She meant what she had said when she said she would wait as long as it took, for him she would do anything. His wavy blonde hair, his wide beautiful smile, but mostly his longing eyes, were what kept her going.

"I love those eyes," Mary whispered.

"Excuse me?" Lola giggled, knowing full well where Mary's mind was.

"Oh, nothing. We need to get dressed; I am the guest of honor you know. Need to look my best!"

The ballroom seemed alive to Francis, for really the first time in his life. There was something or rather someone that he now could celebrate, Mary. Despite his parents' interferences, Francis had come to know Mary and became her friend. Tonight was the night he wanted to ask Mary a question, a rather important one. If only she would show up.

"Bash, do you know where Mary is? The ball is going to end in nearly an hour, and I haven't seen any sign of her?" Francis decided Bash would be the best person to ask, considering he spent half the night flirting with Mary's ladies in waiting.

"I have no idea. Ask Lola or something. I'm busy."

Bash sauntered over to another group of women, putting on his charming smile, and Francis chuckled to himself. _I suppose I need to start my inquiry of Mary on my own_, Francis thought, a smile tugging at his lips. As he walked down the corridors, images of Mary came to him. Her long black hair, her infectious smile, and of course, her lovely, lovely eyes.

"I love those eyes," Francis spoke to himself.

Rounding the corner, he collided immediately with someone, sending them straight to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, let me help you up."

Francis looked down to see a beautiful raven haired woman, dressed in a gown of pink silk, her hair pulled up with a diamond pink and white crown resting on her head. She looked gorgeous and flustered, but most importantly she was the one person he was longing to see.

"It's alright, I wasn't paying attention either," Mary relayed, as she looked up and saw Francis, she let out a type of whimper, obviously being out of sorts.

"Francis, shouldn't you be celebrating..."

"I found myself getting rather bored; I was actually looking for you. Can we talk somewhere private?" Francis gently grabbed Mary's hand and guided her to his private quarters. As Francis shut the door, he could tell Mary was nervous.

"Oh, it's nothing like that, I just wanted…"

"What are you, oh no it's not that, I'm just, well I mean, I've been wanting to talk to you as well" Mary sat down on Francis' bed, sighing as she tucked her a stray hair behind her ear. Francis smiled inwardly as he looked at Mary while at the same time feeling incredibly nervous. He sat down next to Mary, and turned towards her. She looked up at him, her beautiful brown eyes exploring his, and he took her hands, and began his question.

"Mary, there is something I have been wanting to ask you. I know there has been little progress made towards our marriage, and I know it is frustrating. But you must believe me when I tell you I want it as much as you. And you need to know how I feel about you. Whenever I'm nervous or sad, I think of you. Whenever I'm happy or confident, I think of you. I think about you all of the time, Mary. I dream about you, don't ask me to repeat about what exactly though…" 

Mary started to blush, causing Francis to caress her cheek with his hand.

"But most of all, I want you to know that I love you. I love you, and I want to marry you. So, here it is, my question. Can I kiss you?"

Overwhelmed with tears streaming down her face, Mary began to nod but her action was interrupted by Francis' lips crushing hers. His mouth on hers felt like paradise, and with every soft caress by his lips she melted more. Mary finally pulled away, leaving Francis with a small frown on his lips. She gently kissed his lips, placing her forehead against his.

"I just wanted to let you know, before we continue, that never feel the need to ask my permission to kiss me again. You can kiss me whenever you want, because I love you." Francis smiled as he grabbed Mary by her waist, intending to kiss her thoroughly.


	2. Reality

"_Can I kiss you?" _

Francis' question and subsequent actions played over again in Mary's mind as she awoke the following morning. It had seemed too perfect to be real, like everything that she had been dreaming of since she was sent away to the convent, had come to fruition. Mary sighed at the thought, deciding to concentrate rather on how Francis' lips felt against her own. In the middle of her reverie, Kenna and Lola came into her bedchamber.

"Your Majesty, you are awake," they said in unison, seemingly surprised.

"Yes…that is what one tends to do in the morning. Awake," Mary smiled.

The girls looked at each other warily, before approaching Mary. "It's just that, in your condition, we didn't think that you would be awake so soon."

"I'm sorry. I don't quite follow…"

"Mary, yesterday you were thrown from your horse while riding in the annual Christmas Day ride. You were thrown pretty far. Francis carried you himself to your room. Nostradamus said you hit your head pretty hard, and that you probably wouldn't wake for at least a few days," Lola said, looking at Mary concernedly.

"That's ridiculous. Yesterday, I remember perfectly. I was walking around the castle, trying to avoid the ball because of my nerves, and then I ran into Francis. And then, well, the most wonderful thing happened. Oh I need to tell you both about it," Mary smiled.

Kenna and Lola exchanged glances, sitting down on the bed next to Mary.

"You were dreaming Mary. There was no ball yesterday. The King and Queen canceled it after your accident. I'm sorry," Kenna said, looking at Mary.

Mary frowned, unsure of how to respond. She had dreamed of her encounter with Francis, and had more importantly, dreamed of a point at which they both admitted their feelings to one another. Disappointed was not the right word for what Mary was feeling. Devastated was more like it. Everything that she had been hoping for, waiting for, was still in the future. She was no closer to achieving her goal of an alliance with France, but more personally, of obtaining the love and affection of her dear intended, Francis. Mary smiled wearily, to reassure Lola and Kenna, asking them for some time alone, saying her head was rather sore and she needed a moment. When the door closed behind them, Mary collapsed on her bed, a single tear escaping her eye. After allowing herself a few moments, Mary decided to go for a walk. She excused her ladies-in-waiting, telling them she wouldn't be long. None thought it was a rather good idea, considering just yesterday she had a rather harsh fall, but they couldn't argue with their Queen. As Mary began her trek outside, she came upon Nostradamus, who looked positively puzzled to see her not only awake but walking.

"Mary! What are you doing out of bed? How are you feeling? Perhaps you should lie back down. I have some medicine for the pain, I'm sure you are still in pain. Mary? Mary!" Nostradamus yelled, as Mary kept walking, decidedly ignoring the man. She hadn't liked him from the moment she arrived, there was something foreboding about the man. And he certainly wasn't about to tell her what to do now. When she reached the lake, she sat down, folding her hands in her lap and sighed.

"What are you doing? I am taking you back inside this instant!"

Mary turned her head to look at Francis, who was walking up to her, and she weakly smiled.

"Thank you for your concern, but really, I'm…"

Francis bent down and scooped Mary up in his arms.

"You need rest, no arguing" he said, as Mary protested in vain.

Once he had reached the castle foyer, Mary was asleep in his arms. Grinning, he continued up the stairs to Mary's bedchamber. Francis was greeted by Lola, who was pacing in front of the doorway.

"Your highness, you found her! She has been gone for too long, we were starting to worry," Lola remarked, as Francis smiled politely, walking past her and shutting the door. He laid Mary as gently down as he could, a frown on his face as he pulled the blanket over her. _What was she thinking; she could have hurt herself even more_. _She needs to think of what would happen if something were to go wrong, and she was hurt. What would her mother do? Her country. Her friends. Me…_

He could no longer hide his feelings for Mary from himself. When she had fallen from her horse yesterday, Francis' world had been stopped. Everything he thought that was important was no longer, and he realized that the most incredible, wonderful, important thing in his life was her and that he didn't know what he would do if he lost her. But he could never tell her that. At least not now, not while their future marriage seemed less and less likely. For now, he would be content just knowing that she was safe. That she was here under his protection.

Taking one last look at her, he sighed, thinking that perhaps one day, things could be different. Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead he smiled at her sleeping form, leaving the room, and Mary, behind him.


	3. And It Begins

It had been two weeks since Mary's accident, and her condition hadn't improved. After Francis had taken her back to her room the day after her accident, her condition had declined. She was conscious and talking, but she was unable to walk or stand for even a few moments at a time. Nostradamus had told her that because she had been so soon out of bed after her accident that she did more harm to her condition. Mary was anything but pleased. She hated being trapped in her room like a disobedient child. She was bored, and more importantly, lonely. She had told her ladies-in-waiting to go about their daily routines, not wanting to confine them to her rooms as well. They visited her in the morning and night for a few hours, but for the most part she was by herself. Two weeks seemed like a lifetime. She hoped she didn't have to wait another two. A knock at her bedroom door, ceased her gloomy reflections.

"Come in," Mary said encouragingly, eager for any company of late.

Mary's smile faded when she was greeted by her visitor.

"Your Majesty, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Mary said coolly, her eyes resting on the unreadable expression on Queen Catherine's face. Catherine smiled, folding her hands in front of her, looking at Mary, the one girl that could ruin everything.

"To check on you, of course. My dear, how are you feeling? Nostradamus was saying the last time he checked on you, you had a fever. Are you still in much pain?" Catherine voiced, her insincere concern plastered across her face.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just a few more days, I believe. Then I will good as new," Mary declared.

"Actually, I came to have a word with you. Do you mind?" Catherine asked, as she motioned towards Mary's bed. Mary shook her head no, resulting in Catherine sitting herself down opposite Mary. Catherine smoothed out her gown and folded her hands again, trying to determine how exactly she wanted to start. Mary looked at the woman next to her, observing. She was the perfect embodiment of a French Queen. Yet, Mary knew that only because Catherine looked the part and acted it, didn't mean that she forgot about her other roles. Catherine was a fierce competitor, Mary knew that as a fact, and she also knew that she would do whatever she could, to secure not only France's safety but her son's. And that is what had been puzzling Mary. Why would Catherine think that Francis was in danger by aligning in marriage with Mary? Their marriage would bring an immense amount of power and security to both sides, resulting in a blessed union. What did Catherine have against her? Mary supposed she was about to find out.

"You need to know something about me. I always get what I want. And what I want is for you to stay away from my son. Stop giving him hope. Stop giving him your affections. Stop even looking at him" Catherine stated, as Mary looked at her in utter bewilderment.

"I have no intention of letting you marry my son," Catherine paused, smirking as she continued "and I don't need to tell you why. The best method of getting what I want is for you to leave. All you need to know is that as soon as you are well, you will pack your things and head home to Scotland. There is no more need for you here."

Mary's face had become extremely red, her anger clearly visible.

"I know you are the Queen of France, and I respect that. But you need to recognize that I am the Queen of the Scots. I demand respect as well. How dare you tell me where I can go and not go, who I can see and not see. Let me tell you a secret. I always get what I want as well. And what I want is fairly simple: for you to leave me the hell alone, and for your son's hand in marriage. You need to leave my room immediately before I call my guards, and have you forcibly escorted out" Mary huffed, causing Catherine to stand up immediately, her brow furrowing and her voice breaking.

"I, this is, well, you cannot talk to me this way. I, I will speak to my husband, the King, he will…" Catherine's speech was interrupted by Mary's personal guard, who politely cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty, my queen has made her wishes known. You need to leave now," he said, as Catherine looked furiously at Mary. She huffed, turning around sharply and slamming Mary's door behind her.

Despite her resolute demeanor, Mary felt defeated. She collapsed onto the floor into a sobbing mess. _I can't do this,_ she thought. _I just can't._

Making her way down the corridor, Queen Catherine made her way towards her husband's apartments. He could be with his mistress, the bastard Sebastian's mother, but she didn't care. She had a matter of importance to discuss, and she did not care who she interrupted. Catherine slammed open the door, surprising her husband, who was dressing in his hunting attire.

"Catherine? What are you doing in here?" he asked, a confused expressed gracing his features.

"HER. She needs to leave. I don't care how you make it happen; frankly I don't need to know. All that I do know is that she can't be here. I need her gone. Do you understand?"

"You know that I can't do that. We still have an alliance with Scotland; we need her and her people. For…"

"If you can't do it, I will find someone that will. Let me tell you this though. She will not be married to Francis, never. I am going to do whatever it takes to get rid of that horrible girl," she spat, turning quickly on her heels. King Henry eyes followed his wife out of the room, his gut churning. He believed her when she said she would do anything. Despite his hesitations towards finalizing the alliance between France and England through marriage, one thing was for sure, he was not heartless. He had to warn Mary.


	4. Making the First Move

If there was anyone that knew Francis better than he knew himself, it was Bash. And it was because of this gift, that Bash knew Francis was miserable. Looking across the table during dinner, Bash studied his brother. Francis was poking his chicken with his fork, or more accurately, stabbing it. He had eaten nothing the whole dinner, and when he was engaged in conversation, he quickly answered, reverting back to his gloomy, pensive self. Bash knew Francis's mood wasn't simply to do with the fact that he and Mary's marriage seemed further away then before. No, it couldn't be that. Even so, Mary was on his mind. When her name was mentioned, Francis's head snapped up, his eyes showing interest and his relentless stabbing of the chicken had ceased.

"Well, Mary should be fine to resume her normal activities whenever she feels comfortable. I have examined her, and she is recovering very nicely. I would suggest though, no more riding for a while," Nostradamus stated, causing Queen Catherine to grin momentarily, before she noticed her son looking angrily at her.

"What is so amusing mother? Do tell. Is it that fact that Mary could've died, and left me without a fiancé? Is it that for the first time since she arrived, she was weaker than you? Really, mother, I am eager to know," Francis spat out, visibly angry.

"Now dear, calm down. I simply thought it was funny what Nostradamus said. Of course she wouldn't want to go riding anytime soon, the suggestion to tell her not to go seemed preposterous."

Francis didn't respond, instead he resumed the murder of his chicken. Bash felt sorry for Francis, he knew what a hard time this was for him. Even though he had yet to admit it to Bash, he could clearly see that his brother was in love with Mary. Under normal circumstances, this would be great news. For Francis, it just complicated matters. Bash knew that the marriage between Francis and Mary grew to be more unlikely with each passing day, and to know that the person you love might not be yours after all, had to hurt. He decided after dinner he needed to talk to Francis, to help him see that he was there for him, whatever he needed.

Mary was inconsolable; she had been since her confrontation with Catherine. Catherine's words kept replaying over in her mind, and the look she had given Mary when she delivered them. Lola, Kenna, Greer, and Aylee were at a loss when faced with their young queen's misery. Mary had offered no explanation as to what was wrong, giving her friends little to go on. Kenna suggested that maybe Mary was just simply tired of being cooped up in her room, while Greer mused that Mary might have had a horrible dream. Lola, Mary's closest confidante, couldn't decipher what had happened to Mary, but knew better than the rest, that it must be something extreme. Lola had never seen Mary this defeated, she could not console her, and that was the hardest part. After a long time of ineffectual advances and pleas towards Mary, the girls decided that perhaps what Mary needed was time alone. Once the girls had left, Mary looked up momentarily from her place on the floor, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders. Her eyes were filled with tears, her face splotchy, dried tears on her cheeks. She stood up shakily, her breathing sporadic. _I need to speak to Francis_, Mary thought, looking at the secret tunnel she had discovered the night of her arrival. She quietly walked towards the entrance, not wanting to alert the girls, carefully opening the passage door. She stepped inside and was immediately greeted with a draft of cold air. Shivering she folded her bare arms, walking slowly not wanting to hurt herself in the dark. It had seemed like a lifetime before she had reached the passage door that she presumed to lead to Francis' room. Mary hesitated, putting her head against the door, listening.

"Francis, listen to me. I can't know how you are feeling, but I am here to help you anyway I can. I saw at dinner the way you were looking. I know there is something you aren't telling me. What is it?" Bash asked his brother, who was sitting on his bed looking at his feet.

"I don't know what you mean brother…"

"Oh cut the crap, I know something is wrong. Tell me. You can trust me," Bash smiled, placing his hand on Francis' shoulder. Francis looked up at Bash, studying him. Ever since he could remember, Bash had been his best friend. They had laughed together, fought each other, played as children together, and ultimately, Francis could see no one else that he would rather have in his corner. Sighing, Francis stood up.

"Father told me that my mother paid a visit to him earlier. He said that she wanted him to get rid of Mary, in any way possible. When he refused, he told me she said she would find another way. I don't know what to do Bash, how do I handle this? My mother has yet to do anything, but she is my mother. But I will certainly not let her harm Mary in any way. What should I do?" Francis said frantically, as he started pacing the floor.

"Well, I, well, this is quite the predicament. I have to say I am quite shocked. I knew your mother didn't like Mary, but I didn't know the extent of it. The first thing that needs to be taken care of is Mary's safety. I think we need to put her somewhere safe, until you can convince your mother that she will make a terrible mistake if she goes through with her actions. Can you think of such a place?" Bash asked.

Francis shook his head no at first, but then quickly looked up at his brother with a smile on his face.

"Of course! The old house that Mary and I used to hide and play in as children. It is a small house, kept by a local merchant who would let us play in it, as long as we promised to leave it as we had found it. He was never at home, always out selling his goods. He normally rented out his house, but for the summer that Mary and I were there, he let us have it, I suppose because of our status. I'm sure if I write to him, I could ask if we could rent it, provided no one is there. Oh that would be perfect! We never told anyone about it, we kept it our secret. We called it our home, and we pretended we were married. We made dinners, did chores, it was actually quite fantastic," Francis grinned.

"Give me his information and I will ride out tonight to talk to him. We need to get started right away," Bash told his brother. Francis handed him a sheet of paper with the man's name and place of residence, urging Bash to hurry. After Bash had left the room, Francis went back to his bed, lying down on his back, smiling, thinking that perhaps he had thought of a solution, at least for now.

Just after Francis had closed his eyes, he heard light footsteps approaching his bed. He looked up warily, his hand on the sword underneath his mattress. His hand relaxed when he noticed it was Mary.

"Mary, what are you doing in here? Are you alright?" Francis asked, looking at his betrothed. She was shaking and he could tell she had been crying for a while. She didn't respond to him, instead she only cried harder. Francis quickly rushed to her, embracing her in his arms.

"Ssshh, it is alright. I am here now. I won't let anything happen to you." He led Mary to his bed, gently laying her down. After covering her with his blanket, he laid down next to her, draping his arm across her protectively. Mary continued to sob, making Francis pull her closer. _I can't let anything happen to her. I won't_, Francis thought, looking at the beautiful girl he was determined to protect. _I will do whatever it takes. Anything for her._


End file.
